Because no one ever notices when nice people say nice things.

This could've been a post about Donald Trump being an old rich white homophobe, which is BRAND NEW INFORMATION, but instead I decided to focus on something a little more worthwhile:

Ian Somerhalder, unfairly gorgeous man of Vampire Diaries fame, is pretty upset about the culling of 100 sled dogs in British Columbia. And when I say 'culling', I mean a guy running a dogsled tour company decided business was too slow to warrant the huge amount of dogs he had, so instead of rehoming them or dropping them off at a shelter, he proceeded to shoot/cut the throats of over 100 healthy, tethered dogs. Guess who cared enough to use their status as a well-known member of the community to gather support and raise awareness of the issue? Ian Somerhalder, that's who.

Look at this fucking beautiful human being.

I fucking love this guy. Honestly, his Twitter is just a big ol' ball of heartwarming and caring and all sorts of underrated non-edgy-and-pretentious qualities. There are few things I love more than people who are both aware of the world around them and selfless enough to want to give even a little bit of their time to try to help in any way they can. In the immortal words of Rose Tyler: "You don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away."

And then I came across this:

For the record, the Christchurch earthquake is officially the worst natural disaster I've ever seen hit my little country, and the worldwide outpouring of mere acknowledgement, let alone support, has been amazing. The fact that this clearly awesome guy was doing his bit to raise awareness, for us and for Libya, is basically +100 excellence as far as I'm concerned.

On my subconscious and its habit of trolling me.

So there I am, settling down for sleepytimes. It's really late at night, I can hardly keep my eyes open, my bed is warm and comfy, it's all coming together.

And then BAM. I wake up in a total panic, I have no idea why but at the time it was imperative that I sit up and try to see my attacker.
For some reason, in the pitch darkness of my room, my eyes decide to blatantly lie to me and tell me that the vacuum cleaner is sitting near my heater, watching me menacingly. And then the fucking vacuum cleaner starts moving. Of its own accord. Advancing on me, clearly intending to strangle me with its hose or some ridiculous thing. It was terrifying. It sounds stupid, but you try being stoic when you're half-asleep and convinced you're being attacked by evil cleaning appliances.
So I start telling the vacuum cleaner "no!"
Loudly.
I am sitting in bed in the middle of the night, shouting at the imaginary evil vacuum cleaner, "NO! NO!"

Whatever. I managed to turn my lamp on and see that the vacuum cleaner isn't even in my room, and I go back to sleep, my sanity restored.
Or was it?
The last dream I remember having was - from my point of view - frankly glorious, but it was the kind of glorious that means when I wake up and realize it was only a dream, I react badly.

Like this.

My glorious dream consisted of some sort of movie viewing. The only thing I recall clearly about the movie was the fact that it had paired a couple of male characters - which was cute and all, but more importantly, they were played by this man:

That's Ian Somerhalder...on a fucking motorcycle.

and this man:

Anyone who knows me knows that my ovaries just exploded.

Cillian Murphy and Ian Somerhalder. I don't even know how my dream-self witnessed it without spontaneously combusting due to sheer joy. For reasons I think I just made quite clear, my return to reality was accompanied by this sort of behavior:

Forever.